


casual: a mark scheifele fanfiction

by propinquities



Category: Hockey RPF, mark scheifele - Fandom, winnipeg jets - Fandom
Genre: Alcohol, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-06-10 10:23:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15289443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/propinquities/pseuds/propinquities
Summary: mark scheifele and stella torres are both busy and jaded in their own respective rights, so deciding to keep things casual and be friends with benefits seems perfect for them both... right?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this takes place during the timeframe of the western conference finals, not everything will be completely consistent with what happened though. i also have a pretty good understanding of hockey, but some things may not be completely accurate! don’t scalp me lol. also this is purely self indulgent since i feel like i may be one of the only people who like mark scheifele, but i hope that there are a few others who enjoy this as well!  
> characters: mark scheifele, the winnipeg jets, female original main character: stella torres, and her best friend, another female original main character: olivia kaplan  
> warnings: i mention alcohol???  
> words: 2350  
> summary: mark’s game doesn’t stop–even when he’s off the ice

“Good game last night, Scheif.” says a voice. Hm? Mark had to break himself out of his reverie to look around the makeshift circle he and a few strangers have created, or rather, that _they’ve_ created around _him_ , to find the source. Oh fuck, the source was right beside him.

He’s a shorter man; round face adorned by a thick white moustache with the hair to match, and his red grinning face was angled up right towards Mark.

With a slight laugh, Mark took himself out of his bewilderment and brought his attention to the white-whiskered man. After a couple hours of mingling, auction bidding, public speaking, and picture taking, Mark was beginning to hit a wall for the night and was just about ready to leave. Right after speaking to this man, it seemed.

Despite their disparity in size, the man claps Mark on the back hard enough to cause the 6’3” hockey player to choke a little on the drink he was sipping. The shorter man is a stranger to Mark, but such compliments from people he had never met before were not unusual, especially with the Winnipeg Jets doing so well in the playoffs. They had just won game one in the third round against the Vegas Knights the day prior, leaving the city buzzing with enthusiasm. Mark knew, however, not to get too excited. There were still potentially _six_ more games, so celebrating one win would do him no good.

“Ah, thank you, thank you. Means a lot, eh.” Mark smiled politely, taking another sip from his first and only glass of bourbon; he had to limit himself tonight. Although taking the win against the Knights during the first game meant they were one step closer to the cup, with a game coming the following day and with this being an esteemed gala, now was neither the time nor place for Mark to get absolutely shit faced, even if he desperately wished to.

“You and the team are making the entire city proud, even my wife is watching games now!” The white whiskered man chuckled, clapping Mark on the back once more. Once again, Mark responded with wide eyes at the contact before sputtering slightly, this seemingly undetected by the man. The man began to go off on a tangent about how she could barely watch the games—something about the anticipation.

Mark’s eyes glazed over as he took in his surroundings, nodding along mindlessly at the man’s voice as it faded into the background. The Fort Gary Hotel ballroom looked especially regal tonight, it was all white drapery and gold accents with people dressed to the nines. The hotel had clearly pulled out all the stops for tonight’s charity event in support of KidSport, and with people paying 250 dollars a plate and high bids on art, jerseys, and the like, the event was doing extremely well. During on season Mark was limited to the amount of times he could go out and socialize, so when he wasn’t tired and when it was permitted, he liked to take advantage of the chances he did get—besides, he was happy to support KidSport anytime as an ambassador for the organization. A few other guys from the team were at the event as well, while some opted to stay in and rest up before tomorrow’s big game.

It was now 10 p.m., and the party was still in full swing. As Mark surveyed the large room, he saw clusters of people chatting, people making use of the dancefloor (fellow alternate team captain Dustin Byfuglien included), and directly across the room, some people leaning against the bar. Mark saw a couple more of his teammates ordering drinks and taking friendly jabs at each other which caused him to chuckle. Mark’s eyes continued to travel the room as the man spoke.

“And our dog just goes crazy…” the man continued, his voice nearly lost to Mark amidst the buzz of sound all around the room. Mark’s eyes finally stopped at the edge of the bar, where a girl took a seat; she seemed to be alone. Mark could only see the back of her, but her body language, elbow on bar, head propped up on her hand, she looked almost… bored. Mark knew the feeling. Some of these events made him bored, too, but to see someone so… open about it, whether meaning to or not, was intriguing. Mark’s world was founded on public appearances—saying the right thing, _doing_ the right thing so as not to cause a stir. Mark understood that it wasn’t that way for everyone, but for someone to be conveying such disinterest at such an esteemed event was surely against most people’s concepts of what was appropriate… but not hers, it seemed.

“That’s why we love orange sodas on game days—” Mark looked at the man and nodded apologetically, tipping his glass of bourbon to him.

“Excuse me.” It was Mark’s turn to clap the white whiskered man on the back before he retreated to the bar, leaving the whiskered man sputtering in his wake.

The closer Mark got to the stranger, the more he noticed—of what he could see of her, anyway. The way her hair cascaded down her back, the low back of her gown, the tattoo that ran down her spine, just peeking through her brown curls. It looked like... characters of some sort? Ones he didn’t recognize. Mark finished his walk and leaned against the bar right beside the stranger, whose face he could now see. Mark released a mental sigh of relief, she was just as alluring from the front as she was from the back. Almond brown eyes, olive skin, full lips. Her red satin gown gathered at her chest and left her prominent collarbones exposed... Mark must have been staring, because the girl turned to him with her eyebrows raised expectantly, as if wondering, “Well?”. Mark recovered from his fawning without missing a beat, smirk in full play. Mark believed himself to be pretty smooth and wasn’t one to sputter or stumble, and this time would be no exception, even if he was caught with his pants down to start.

“Can I get you a drink?” Classic, straight to the point; good play, Mark. The girl pursed her lips and raised her glass of… water? Mark hid his confusion, still smiling, though he was was curious.

“Nothing I can’t get myself,” the girl replied. Mark quirked a brow, now conveying his bewilderment. “I don’t drink.” She added when she noticed he still seemed a little confused.

“Ah.” Mark nodded and pressed his lips into a thin line, taking a sip of the last of his bourbon while setting the empty glass on the bar, an awkward beat passing between them. _Stupid_ play, Mark. She doesn’t drink? Maybe he shouldn’t have assumed, but who doesn’t drink?

Mark let another beat pass, the girl looked at him with an amused look, waiting for what he was going to say next—like a challenge almost. Mark laughed, “Huh. What do you do when your opening line tanks?” he chuckled. The girl took a sip from her water while her forehead creases, before pulling the glass away from her lips.

“Come on, Scheif, aren’t you supposed to be a quick thinker? Playing center and all that.” She replied teasingly. Mark chuckled in response.

“So, you know who I am.” Mark noted, it wasn’t phrased as a question—more of a statement. The woman scoffed, shooting him a look of disbelief.

“Oh my god, ew.” The girl exclaimed, laughing, “You’re so modest, are you kidding? Everyone in Winnipeg knows. 12 goals thus far, sneaking up on Crosby with the most points scored ever during the playoffs…” she trailed off before making a face, as if hearing what she was saying for the first time. “I’m not creepy, though, I promise. I just pay attention.” She said before taking a sip of water, “And watch the news.” She added hurriedly as she pulled the glass away from her lips, setting it back down on the bar. Again, her comment is met with another chuckle. She was funny. And hot. Mark had to make a conscious effort to keep his eyes from wandering down to her cleavage.

“Mm,” Mark hummed, nodding with his smile in full play, “I’d think you were a lot less creepy if I knew your name.”  he teased, his blue eyes practically twinkling the unnamed girl’s way. Mark enjoyed the back and forth they had going, it made him feel a lot more awake than he actually was. Between games and practices and press, the Winnipeg Jets center was beat.

“My name?” the girl blinked, as if taken aback by his question. “Uh, Stella.” She replied with a slight smile. Another raised eyebrow from Mark. Was that a fake name? Suddenly Mark wondered if the enjoyment of their back and forth was one sided, and if he had really become the weird guy who girls had to give a fake name to. “That’s my real name.” she replied for clarification, her smile shifting from slight back into teasing once more. It’s funny, it’s like she knew exactly what Mark was thinking without having to be told. Maybe he was just that easy to read. “Sit down, you’re making me nervous.” She added, motioning to the bar stool beside her. Mark smiled, feeling at ease again as he sat down beside her.

“I don’t wanna be corny, promise, but why are you here by yourself?” Mark asked, leaning forward and resting his weight onto the bar at his elbows, tilting his head to look at Stella. She laughed wryly in response, taking another sip of her water. The bartender took this moment to offer Mark another drink by tapping on his glass with an inquisitive look. Mark looked up and shook his head _no_ before looking back at the girl.

“Well, my date didn’t show up, so.” She shrugged, looking at him. “He kept me waiting then said he couldn’t make it. If I hadn’t had a plate paid for and didn’t look this good I would have left already.” She chuckled. Mark nodded along as she spoke.

“I’m sorry. That’s a dick move.”

“Eh, yeah, well… it’s not that big a deal—I got a free meal out of it.” Stella laughed, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. “What about you? You’re the man of the hour, I’m surprised you’re able to steal any time away tonight at all.” Stella noted.

“I mean, you smile and nod enough and you can pretty much sneak away undetected which is nice.” Mark smiled, eliciting a small chuckle out of Stella.

“Let’s see it?” Stella joked. Mark’s smile broadened before he began nodding his head animatedly, causing the girl to full on guffaw now. “Oh yeah, I see what you mean. That could definitely get you out of a lot of things.” She was pretty flirty for a girl who was waiting for a date… maybe they weren’t serious? Either way, it didn’t matter much to Mark—she was hot and she was flirting with him, and that information was what was valuable to him.

“Enough to get us both out of here together?” he asked coyly. It was risky and a little corny, but sometimes you needed to take a risk in order to receive the payoff. Stella smiled and pointed at Mark while letting out a drawn out, sarcastic laugh.

“Ha. Good move.” Stella reached for the clutch that was sat upon the top of the bar, opening it to fish her phone out. Stella pressed a button on her phone to bring the screen to life and look at the time, pursing her lips together before shoving her phone back into its hiding spot. “I should actually be going.” She said before getting off the barstool, smoothing out the front of her dress, clutch in hand.

Mark could hardly believe it, he tried not to be cocky, but as far as he could tell, he was making all the right moves with her. His last line might have been a little poorly executed, but other than that he thought it was going well.

Mark followed suit, leaving his seat as his feet took off and had him following the girl, who was now already making her way out of the room. It wasn’t hard for Mark to catch up to her, with his limbs considerably longer than hers—he had at least a whole foot on her with her heels on.

“How about a phone number at least?” Mark asked. At this Stella slowed to a stop, letting a moment pass by before she turned to face him. Stella paused and looked up at the taller man for a minute, as if weighing her options. The two of them were now out of the main ballroom and standing in the corridor directly outside, which was empty with the exception of the two of them. Mark began to smile and nod again dopily just as he had before in attempt to make her laugh. It worked.

Holding out her hand, the petite brunette sighed, betrayed by her own display of amusement through the smug smile that had found its way onto her lips. “Fine,” she conceded, looking at him expectantly. It took Mark only a moment to realize that she was waiting for him to give her his phone. Mark made a little noise of realization when it hit him before fishing his own phone out of his pocket, unlocking it, and placing it in the girl’s hands. After a few taps, Mark’s phone was back in his hands and Stella was walking away again, this time he didn’t follow.

“See you around, Mark.” Stella said without turning back to look at him.

Was he going to call her? Probably not. But Mark loved a challenge, and him walking away with a number instead of nothing at all like he initially thought was reward enough for him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> mark and stella with the face off.

Mark was one of the last in the locker rooms getting geared up for practice before game two against the Vegas Knights in a few short hours. Guys were filing out of the locker room and onto the ice one by one until soon it was just Mark and Brandon Tanev, the team’s left wing. Tanev was pretty much fully suited up with the exception of his helmet, but walked over to Mark with his skates on, clunky and heavy.

“Hey, man. How was that thing last night?” Brandon asked, nudging Mark with his bulky elbow as Mark pulled on his hockey pants and shin pads.

“Ah, it was all right. You know how those things are. Nothing crazy.” Mark shrugged. “Where were you? I thought you said you were gonna show up.” Mark asked, turning his head to Brandon as he shrugged on his shoulder pads and then pulled on his elbow pads. Brandon laughed in response to Mark’s question.

“Bro, honestly… I fell asleep.” Brandon said, still laughing. “My girl was pretty mad at me for it, too. I told her we would go.” Mark quirked an eyebrow up at this.

“Your girl? Since when do you have a girl?” Mark asked, laughing. “It’s like I don’t even know you anymore, Tanev.” Mark teased. Brandon’s mouth fell open slightly.

“Oh man, I didn’t tell you?” Brandon asked, padding off to his locker, another series of awkward steps. Thud, thud, thud. When he finally arrived, he pulled off one of his gloves before reaching into it and grabbing his phone, fiddling with it as he returned to Mark. “Not to toot my own horn, but she’s a fucking _smokeshow_.” Brandon chuckled in self-satisfaction. After he finished tapping through his phone, he held it out for Mark to look at. Mark squinted as he brought his hand to behind the phone and Brandon relinquished his hold on it. On the screen was a picture of a girl smiling above a breakfast platter, brown hair cascading past her shoulders, olive skin, brown eyes, full lips… “Her name is Stella.”

_Stella._ Fuck. That was her. That was _Stella_. The girl Mark met the other night. The hot girl who got ditched by her date. Who happened to be Brandon. His teammate. Mark hadn’t even thought about Stella since that night, but this had his mind racing. What if they had gone home together that night? Why didn’t she say that it was _Tanev_ she was waiting for? Mark knew what it meant to keep up appearances, and something like this definitely could have created a mess the team didn’t need. Granted, it was avoided, but he still couldn’t help but feel rattled.  Mark didn’t realize how shocked he must have looked, because Brandon chuckled.

“I know, I thought her name was fake too. It just sounds too like… New York or something.” Brandon shrugged before taking the phone out of Mark’s hands and setting it back in his locker before putting his gloves back on. “I’ll see you out there.” Brandon waved, grabbing his stick and trudging out of the room. Mark pressed his lips into a thin line and smiled before nodding at him.

Stella was Tanev’s girl. Okay.

* * *

 

Game day had come and gone, and unfortunately the Jets had lost game two. Mark knew not to get discouraged, there was still the rest of the series and they’d go to game seven if they had to. Mark truly loved every aspect of the game and to him, this was just an opportunity to play harder and learn more which always excited him. He knew they would win. They had to.

But now, on Mark’s rare off day, a Sunday where he had nothing lined up—no practice, no press—he was left to do whatever he so pleased. Currently, he was at home and watching highlights from the past two games sent to him by his personal skills coach. Even off days weren’t really off days. Mark sighed after watching a clip of him getting his stick tangled up in the goal area—easy goal missed. Mark took his remote and paused the clip, leaning back into the soft leather of his couch, plucking his phone off the arm of it beside him. Mindlessly, he scrolled through his contact list until he landed on her name. _Stella Torres_. Mark hadn’t looked at the contact since she put it in his phone a week ago, but now, with some downtime and an admittedly curious mind, Mark was going to phone her. With a click of her contact name, the call was set in place and Mark put the ear to his phone as it rung.

One ring. Two rings. Three rings…

“Hello?” the girl answered.

“Hey, it’s Mark.” Mark? Oh. _Mark_. Stella pursed her lips together for a moment in thought before she answered.

“Mark…” she trailed off, waiting for some clarification. It was half a joke and half because she really wondered if it _was_ Mark, the man she met at the charity gala the other night. The head honcho of the Winnipeg Jets himself. Stella truly hadn’t expected him to phone her, much less on a Sunday when she was in her home, hair a mess and doing her last load of laundry. She could only assume how these hockey boys were given her limited prior experience.

Mark had to try his best not to scoff at this. _Who the fuck else would it be?_

“Scheifele.”

“Ah, just wanted to make sure… hey, Mark Scheifele.” Stella teased, putting the basket full of laundry she balanced between her arm and her hip down on the ground before sitting on her couch. “What’s up?”

Mark leaned forward on his own couch, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.

“You never told me you were Brandon Tanev’s girl.” Mark replied simply. Suddenly he felt like a fool, what was he _doing?_ Who cared? All he had to do was pretend he never met the girl and forget it. No harm no foul. One chance meeting was hardly cause to confront her as if she had done him or Brandon any wrong. A moment passed by before Stella barked out a laugh in response, she would have laughed earlier if not for her utter shock and confusion.

“I’m _not_ Brandon Tanev’s girl. Who told you I was Brandon Tanev’s girl?” She asked in disbelief.

“Brandon Tanev!” Mark exclaimed.

Stella leaned back into her couch, bringing her free hand to the crook of her elbow of the arm that held the phone to her ear—if she didn’t have to hold up her phone, her arms would be crossed. Stella was a little annoyed that Mark had waited a week to call her just to lecture her about Brandon Tanev. She hadn’t expected him to ever contact her, but why even bother if he was just going to get inquisitive about her dating history?

His exclamation earned him another blurt of sharp laughter from the girl on the other end, who was adjusting her glasses on her face. Sundays were for not wearing contacts and _not_ getting interrogated by some guy she had met once.

“ _Please_. We have been on two or three dates, I would hardly think that qualifies myself as his _girl_.” Stella replied, looking down at her acrylic nails. They were growing out, she needed a fill. “And after he ditched me that night I don’t see myself going out with him again.” Stella added, her tone dripping in _Duh, are you fucking stupid?_ “I’m not _anyone’s_ girl, that’s too much effort.” She exhaled in annoyance. Stella wasn’t looking for any sort of commitment right now, but she definitely didn’t want anyone wasting her time either. Why make dates with some guy who couldn’t be bothered to show up when she could find someone else who would respect her time? Why the fuck did Mark care anyway?

Mark spent a second wondering what he could possibly say now before he was right back into the momentum of things.

“You think you’d have mentioned you were waiting for my left winger to show up when I started flirting with you.” He still sounded slightly on the offense, _tone it the fuck down, Mark_. Stella laughed once more, but this time it sounded playful. It reminded him of her laugh when they met, and this put him slightly more at ease.

“ _Flirting_ with me? Is that what you were doing?” Stella challenged, her voice thick with a teasing tone. Mark smirked on his end of the phone.

“Obviously. Not my best work, but I got your number, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, yeah. After you all but chased me out of the gala. You didn’t even put it to use ‘til just now when you decided it was your business if I was dating someone or not.”

Oof. And again, he was back on the offense. Keep it playful, keep it light.

“I’ve been busy, y’know? We _are_ in the western conference finals; don’t you watch the games?” Mark teased as he began twiddling with the hem of his basketball shorts mindlessly. It wasn’t a lie, the games and practices obviously did keep him extremely busy, but as previously mentioned, it was never in his agenda to call her. Why had he even called at all?

“I’ve been busy, _y’know_?” Stella replied, Mark couldn’t tell if she was mad or joking. Maybe a bit of both. “Anyway, did you just call me to ask if I was fucking Brandon Tanev? Because if so, _no_ , and I’m gonna go because I’ve got some laundry I’ve got to get back to.” Holy shit. She was blunt.

“Go out with me.” Mark stated simply. Maybe he was intrigued, what did it matter? She was hot and she was fun, and she wasn’t looking for anything serious, which was just Mark’s type. The whole Brandon thing might have been a bit of an obstruction, but Mark’s plan was to just hang out the girl, fuck her a few times, and have that be it. Just in general, he had no time to be tied down.

“Ooh, bold, huh Scheif? We could have used some of that same energy last game…” Stella teased. Mark laughed, clutching his hand over his heart jokingly.

“Well played. So, you _are_ watching the games then, eh?” Mark quipped back. It was Stella’s turn to flush.

“Don’t flatter yourself too much, you’re not the only one on the team.” She laughed before trailing off. “Fine. We’ll go out.” _Really?_ Mark wanted to ask, but he withheld. “When were you thinking?” Damn. He hadn’t thought this far ahead. Between playoffs and practices and press it was hard to find a minute to himself, much less to spend with someone else, and the last thing he wanted was to make this girl wait another week. Although…

“Come to the game.” The next game was at home, and he hoped they didn’t choke like they did last time.

“Really?” Stella asked quizzically.

“Yeah, why not. I can put you up in a box and we can hang out after. You can bring a friend, even... Just not a date.” Mark added.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll bring Tanev.” Stella chuckled, poking fun at him. Mark’s brow creased as he laughed—it didn’t make sense, but that made it even more funny.

“Fuck off.” Mark said after the last bit of his laughter subsided. “I’ll see you then?”

“Yes, I’ll see you, Mark.”

Click.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> to having fun and keeping it casual.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: SMUT LOL. yes. they go there.  
> words: 8068….. oh dear!  
> 

 

“Here are the tix. I’ll see u after the game. Hope I hear u cheering for me loud;)” Mark had texted Stella, to which she rolled her eyes in response even if she was smiling.

And now it was game day. Game three of the conference and as promised, Mark had put Stella and a friend up in one of the VIP boxes. Stella and Olivia, Stella’s best friend of a few years, were now watching the last 30 seconds of the game—it was tied two all between the Jets and the Knights and the Jets had pulled goalie Connor Hellebuyck from his spot at the net with about two minutes left. The Knights had received an icing call which put Scheifele and McNabb at a face off in the attacking zone. Olivia frowned.

“Oh my god, I can’t watch.” Liv groaned, squeezing one eye shut while she used the open one to watch consciously. Stella chewed on her lip as the ref was about to drop the puck, unable to even formulate a reply to her blonde-haired friend. Stella hadn’t seen Mark since they met at the gala, but aside from him sending her tickets to the game, he had also taken it upon himself to courier her one of his jerseys; the note attached read _Don’t wear Tanev’s -Mark._ Stella could only laugh, if she _did_ have Brandon’s jersey she would have worn it to poke fun at Mark, but luckily for him, she didn’t, so she showed up to the game in the jersey he provided. Olivia, however, _did_ have a Tanev jersey, which Stella was sure Mark would get a kick out of.

And then the puck dropped. Scheifele wins the face off. Quick pass to Connor. Quick pass to Byfuglien. Quick pass to Scheifele. Back to Byfuglien. Back to Connor. Back to Scheif and… SCORE! Mark had hit Fleury with the one timer, which Fleury just couldn’t answer just as the third period came to a close. The empty net had paid off. Mark skated away from the goal as Fleury fell in defeat. Mark pumped his fist, skating the perimeter of the arena and cheering along with the crowd. Stella, Olivia, and the entirety of the MTS centre were in a full-fledged uproar, people were cheering and whipping their Whiteout towels all around the two girls as they shared a victory hug.

“That was your boy!” Olivia cheered, whipping her Whiteout towel as the two girls were now facing the rink once again. Mark and his line shared a hug before they skated past the bench, exchanging fist bumps. Stella laughed.

“He’s not my boy. This is our first date and it hasn’t even started yet, technically!” Stella found herself having to scream over the cheers, “But yeah, that was really fucking good.” She added, laughing before she resumed in cheering as the boys skated off the rink and into the locker rooms.

After the Knights had skated into their own locker room and the cheering finally subsided, Stella and Olivia began to make their way out of the VIP box and into the arena with their leftover free beers, just one of the perks of the Box. Free snacks, free booze, and a lush seating area that was quite the upgrade from regular seating. Stella took a sip of what was left in her cup.

“I don’t get it. How the hell do you bag all these hockey boys?” Olivia asked, turning her head to her friend standing idly while waiting for the rush of people around them to make their way out.

More instruction from Mark, this time from when he called her the night before: _when the crowd thins out, come downstairs and give the ushers your name._ Stella was a little nervous about heading into the locker rooms—she didn’t want to deal with the whole Brandon thing right now. Their last interaction was her sending him a _fuck you_ text the night he stood her up at the gala and him texting—and calling—back a few times without any acknowledgement from Stella. The girl was sure he wouldn’t be too happy seeing her with Mark, but she supposed she had to face the music sometime. It was a measly little date, but Stella was sure Brandon would be affected one way or another. She couldn’t imagine anyone taking lightly to being left on read and then being left for their teammate, it would wound his ego more than anything.

“Right place, right time, I guess.” Stella shrugged nonchalantly. “This is only my second hockey boy, by the way.” She added, laughing. It was true, too. Stella met Brandon at a bar as she was out with a couple friends, and then had met Mark at a gala _Brandon_ invited her to.

“Whatever. Right after you and Mark fuck tonight is a better time than any to get you to ask him to set me up with Morrissey or something.” Olivia replied, a small smile on her face as she waited for Stella to inevitably protest to her subtle suggestion.

“I’m _not_ going to fuck him tonight, Liv, come on.” Stella said, shaking her head and furrowing her brow at her friend. Stella picked up her bag from off of her seat, slinging it over her shoulder. She had received weird looks upon entry as security checked her bag, seeing that its contents consisted of a short dress and heels, but she didn’t know what Mark had planned for tonight, so whether it called for the slightly more casual shirt under her jersey or the club dress and heels in her bag, she wanted to be ready. Olivia could only respond with a dubious look. “Okay, whatever, I might fuck him tonight.” Stella conceded finally, causing the two of them to break out into laughter as they walked to the entry ports to the arena on the main level.

Realistically, Stella knew there was nothing she could hide from Olivia. The two of them had been best friends for a few years, and Stella had confided in Olivia with everything. And right now, Olivia knew as well as Stella that Stella was just looking to have fun, and sex on the first date was _definitely_ not off the table; in fact, it was sort of preferred.

After Stella had got out of a way-too-serious-for-her-age-five-year-relationship a couple of months ago, the girl just needed to let loose and experience dating and sex with people who weren’t her high school sweetheart. Stella was sure Mark had the same expectations, a travelling athlete like him had his pick of women from Winnipeg to Vegas year round, there was no reason he would think of this as anything serious, and she wasn’t offended by that fact. It was kind of a mutually agreed upon unspoken agreement, the way Stella saw it, or she hoped, anyway. “I’ll ask when it’s _appropriate._ Deal?” Stella asked, holding her cup out for Olivia to cheers her own with.

“Deal.” Liv replied, tapping the lip of hers against her best friend’s. The two of them finally neared the entryway.

“You sure you don’t come wanna hang out? Even for a bit?” Stella asked, stopping short of the usher who looked ready to kick the two of them out if they got any closer. The game _was_ over, after all. “He didn’t really say where we were going, but I’m sure we’re headed to a club or something.” Stella asked.

“Nah, I’m good. I have to be up so fucking early tomorrow it’s not even funny. The joys of being a trainer, I guess.” Liv sighed. “You’re so lucky, I want to set my own hours _sooo_ bad.” Liv frowned. Stella rubbed her back sympathetically. As a freelance graphic designer, Stella was pretty much free to work whenever she wanted, so long as she got the work done.

“You will! You’ll open up your own spot and I’ll do all your marketing and you’ll get so many clients and people to train for you that you could sleep all day.” Stella promised. Liv laughed.

“One day when I’m rich. That’s why you make sure you ask about setting me up with a hockey boy, okay? And if this dude tries anything tonight, make sure you call me.” Liv added in a more serious tone, pointing a finger at Stella as if to say _I mean it_. Stella nodded compliantly.

“Yes mom,” although she said it in a mocking tone, she appreciated Olivia’s concern for her. As an only child living away from her parents, Stella’s only family in the city _was_ Olivia. She was beyond thankful for Olivia always being there for her, and she knew Olivia knew she could expect the same from Stella. “It’s a shame you’re not coming with. Mark would have _loved_ your jersey.” Stella added jokingly, one last attempt to get her friend come with her. Stella didn’t ever want to make Olivia feel like she was shooing her off for any boy, so she reassured her a lot, though she knew Olivia didn’t need it. Liv looked down at her jersey quizzically, forgetting what she was wearing before spotting Brandon Tanev’s number on her sleeve, causing her to laugh. “Oh! Wait, turn around.” Stella said, an idea coming to mind.

Olivia obliged as Stella pulled her phone out of her bag, snapping a photo of the jersey emblazoned with TANEV 13 on it. Liv laughed and turned around after hearing the camera shutter.

“Oh, I’m sure..” Liv laughed, elbowing Stella lightly in the ribs while Stella tossed her phone back into her bag. “Okay, be good. Have fun!” Olivia fished her keys out of her bag as she began to walk away. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do! Or do! Whatever.” Liv laughed as she walked off. Stella laughed and turned on her heel towards the usher, who, as expected, immediately tried to turn her away. The usher made a ‘stop fucking walking’ motion with her hands.

“The game is _over_. You’ve gotta go home.” The usher said, crossing her arms before she motioned to the cup in Stella’s hands. “And throw that thing away, you can’t have alcohol in the common areas of the arena.” Stella furrowed her brow in response.

“You just said the game is over, what does it matter if I have…” Stella raised her plastic cup, both to survey what remained in her cup and to show it to the usher, “a third of a beer left?”

“Rules are rules. Just like how it’s a _rule_ that you gotta get out of here. Go.” Stella sighed and shook her head before drinking what was left of her beer and tossing the empty cup into the trash can right beside the usher while holding her hands up like _are we good?_ despite the action making the usher only seem angrier.

“I’m Stella… Torres.” Stella said, adding her last name as almost an afterthought. The usher looked her up and down before scoffing, as if in disbelief. Stella couldn’t hide her offense at this, her face contorting in confusion.

“Alright,” the usher replied, almost defeated. “Come with me, Stella.” Stella didn’t bother to ask what that look was for as the usher led her through the doors and around the perimeter of the arena. “He just usually goes for blondes… like your friend out there.” The usher explained as Stella followed after her wordlessly. _Okay_ , Stella thought to herself, not bothering to respond as they continued along the path unknown to her. Stella had assumed she was being led to the locker rooms, which she thought were accessed from the rink, but they didn’t seem to be making any moves into the actual arena, they just kept walking along the perimeter.

“Where are we…” Stella’s sentence was cut short when the usher arrived at a set of doors, pushing it open for the girl. “Uh…” Stella looked through the doorway—it was an empty, desolate hallway. “Did you bring me here to kill me? Because I drank my beer in the common area?” Stella asked, half joking, but half alarmed. Why the fuck did this girl lead her to a freaky hallway? The usher scoffed at Stella again, shooting her an incredulous look.

“Girl, no. Do you wanna meet up with your man or not?” Stella rolled her eyes as she entered through the door that the usher held open for her.

“He’s not _my man_.” Stella sighed as she turned on her heel to look at the girl who led her here, only to be met with the door now swinging shut instead. _Great._ Stella leaned against a wall behind her as she looked at the hallway, before realizing that this hallway was probably dusty as she plucked herself off and brushed off her jersey. Jesus. Was this some kind of fucking joke? Was Scheifele pranking her for the whole Tanev thing? Was the usher instructed that any non-blonde asking for Mark Scheifele had to be an imposter and to lead her to the scary back hallway? Stella sighed as she pulled her phone out of her purse and looked at the time. 9:51 p.m. Five minutes, she would give this fucker five minutes before she called Olivia to come get her and—

“BOO!”

“HOLY FUCK.” Stella exclaimed at the voice from behind her before, accompanied by hands on her waist and prompting her to whiz around to see the culprit. _Mark_. When Stella’s heart slowed and she could register that it was Mark who snuck up on her, she began wailing on him, throwing hits at his stomach. Though given her 5’2” stature and his 6 foot something physique, it hardly seemed to be making any sort of impact, as he was laughing while bringing his hands up to fight off her blows. Stella finally stopped, catching her breath. “You fucking _asshole_.” She breathed, though now she was laughing. Mark chuckled as he readjusted his Nike duffle on his shoulder. He looked good. His hair was a mess from the game, but it suited him. Mark had more facial hair than the last time Stella saw him, and that suited him too. He was wearing black from head to toe—a black Nike hat, black Henley, black fitted jeans, and nice all black Roshes. Stella smirked, he was definitely a Nike athlete.

“Sorry,” the taller boy said, throwing his hands up defensively. “I couldn’t help it. Did you enjoy the game? I didn’t hear you cheering for me.” Mark teased, looking down at Stella. She was hot, he knew that much, but seeing her in his jersey made her look that much hotter. Or maybe she made the jersey look hot, Mark wasn’t sure, but he was glad she came. “Nice jersey, eh.” He added, smiling at her. Stella raised her eyebrows to show she acknowledged his flirtatious comment, complete with the eyes to match.

“I don’t know, I mean first you put me up in the fucking boonies and then you get the usher to lead me to this scary fucking hallway…” Stella said, though her joking tone was evident as she crossed her arms. Mark laughed looking at her.

“The _boonies_?!” Mark repeated, laughing even harder.

“I’m joking. It was all very nice, we had a good time.” Stella said, purposely keeping her answer short so as to tease the boy. Mark was quick to quip back.

“Yeah? How was my performance, Stats?” Mark asked, smirking as he leaned against the wall behind him, the nickname referencing the first time they met when she was spewing facts at him. For the first time, he saw her flush.

“It was fine. Liv thought your one timer was pretty impressive, I guess.” Stella shrugged, smiling at him. Mark clutched at his heart jokingly.

“Just her? Where is she? I should say thank you.” Mark animatedly pantomimed looking over Stella’s shoulders for Olivia.

“She had to go, but I’ll pass along your thanks. Oh! She did want to show you this though.” Stella went through the motions of pulling up the photo she had taken of Liv in the Tanev jersey to show to Mark. Upon seeing it, Mark let out a loud laugh.

“Shut up,” he chuckled, pushing the phone away jokingly. Stella laughed and put it back into her bag.

A moment passed, Mark looking at Stella expectantly. Stella raised an eyebrow at him, as if wondering what he was waiting for, even though she knew exactly what it was, rolling her eyes before she gave in.

“ _Fine_. That shot was pretty fucking ace. Congratulations on the win.” Stella smiled. “Only two more!” Stella couldn’t help but gush at this, she had a whole lot of pride in her heart for her city’s team. Mark took note of this and his smirk softened into a smile. She was cute.

“But for now, we’ve got some downtime. Let’s make the most of it, eh?” Mark asked, pushing himself off the wall and nodding his head towards… an exit? Maybe? Stella had no idea. Stella began to walk alongside him.

“Really though, why did you have me meet you in the setting of literally every scary movie? I thought that lady—who hated me by the way—was taking me to the locker room.” Stella said as they continued to walk down the empty corridor.

“What lady?”

“The usher. She was kind of short—”

“You’re kind of short.” Mark interjected, smirking. Stella shot him a glare.

“Shut up. She had glasses, hair slicked back into a ponytail…”

“Lisa!” Mark exclaimed as soon as he recognized the caricature Stella described, “Lisa’s nice, a little aggressive, but she’s nice.” Mark nodded, before shaking his head vigorously,  “There was _no way_ I was bringing you to the locker room. I don’t think Tanev would have liked it a whole lot.” Mark teased, “Besides, my car’s out this way.” Stella ignored Mark’s teasing as he opened up a door at the end of the corridor that led to a parking lot, now nearly empty. Stella nodded thanks to him as she stepped through, and then he took off a few steps ahead of her to lead her to his car. Mark took a set of keys out of his pocket before pressing on a key fob. Stella saw the lights of a Tesla blink as he pressed the fob. _Oh_. Stella kept her expression neutral despite being _very_ impressed by his car. He had money. Mark walked up to the passenger seat and opened the door for Stella. She scooted into the seat and closed the door as Mark stuck his duffle into the backseat, closing the door, and getting into the driver’s side.

“So, you haven’t told me where we’re off to, Scheif.” Stella commented as she buckled her seatbelt. “Unless Creepy Hallway was our date and you’re taking me home?”

“Give me more credit. I was thinking we could go out. I have a week stretch til the next game so…”  It was all hard work between games, but Mark was going to take advantage of this free night. Mark looked at the time on the dashboard after he buckled himself in, turned on the car and began to drive out of his spot, “I just want to bring all this shit to my place first, maybe change.” Mark nodded to the back seat, exiting the parkade. Stella nodded in response.

“Sure. To your place.” Stella replied.

 

***

 

The ride to Mark’s place was short, but fun. The two had talked the entire way, about each other’s lives, interests… you name it.

_Do you have to be home early? For work or something?_

_Nah, I’m good._

_No nine to five?_

_I mean, if I want. I’m a freelance graphic designer._

_No shit, eh?_

_So, do you like Winnipeg?_

_On the record, yeah, of course. I’m honoured to play for this team. We’ve got the best fans in the NHL._

_Off the record?_

_…The fucking winters, man… the fucking winters._

Snort. _Fair enough._

_You snort when you laugh?_

_Shut up._

_Have you always lived here?_

_No, not always. I’m actually from Brandon, it’s a couple hours out, but it’s like… so much fucking smaller than here, if you can believe it. My parents are still there._

_Do you have any brothers or sisters here?_

_Nope! No brothers or sisters anywhere, actually. I’m an only child._

_No way, that’s crazy. Me, and my brothe grew up kicking each other’s asses while our sister thought we were the biggest idiots around, couldn’t imagine it any other way._

_So… how old are you? You’re like… of age, right?_

_Oh my goodness. I’m 22. How old are_ you _?_

_Just making sure! 25 years young._

_Do you date a lot?_

_I just got out of a relationship, actually. A long one._

_Me too, a little over a year._

_Ooh, try five._

_Fuck, really eh?_

_Yeah. Now I’m just looking to have fun I guess. Keeping things casual._

He laughs. _To having fun and keeping things casual._

Now, the two of them entered Mark’s apartment where Mark tossed his duffle down at the doorway before he closed the door behind the both of them and made his way to the fridge, throwing the door open. Mark kicked off his shoes and Stella followed suit, only in a more polite manner, setting them beside the door.

Mark’s place was in downtown Winnipeg, all huge ceiling to floor windows, leather couches, white countertops. Again, Stella had to hide her surprise.

“D’ya want anything? Water or like, something to eat…” Mark asked, looking into the fridge and over his shoulder at Stella, who was now rifling through her bag set on one of the barstools, pulling some stuff out. Looked like… shoes and some fabric. Ah, clothes to go out. The girl thought of everything. Stella looked up at the sound of his voice, making a face as she thought. She definitely wasn’t hungry, she devoured an entire Jets dog and some popcorn at the game. What could she say? The snacks were free. A drink didn’t sound half bad, though.

“Eh, why not. I could use a drink, do you have wine?” Stella asked. Mark closed the fridge and directed his attention to Stella, a curious look on his face.

“I thought you didn’t drink?” Stella returned his curious look with one of her own, a moment passing before she laughed in realization, remembering that she had told Mark the night they met.

“Oh, I don’t let strange men I don’t know buy me drinks,” she teased, her stuff still bundled in one hand. Mark feigned offense, his mouth hanging open. Stella laughed and set her dress and heels down on top of her purse.

“I’m not strange.” He replied, defending himself. Stella could only shrug as Mark walked to the countertop, taking a bottle of red off of it, and opening up a cabinet and taking out two wine glasses. Stella couldn’t help but watch Mark’s back and shoulder muscles through his fitted shirt as he reached up to take the wine glasses.

“Formal.” Stella noted as Mark turned to her, setting the glasses on the counter and opening up the wine bottle to fill them both up.

“We can save the shots for the club I think, eh?” Mark smirks as he fills up both glasses about halfway. He set the bottle down and picked a glass up in each hand, handing one to Stella. “Cheers.” With a glass in each of their hands, they clinked their respective rims to the others and took a sip.

“Mm.” Stella hummed after taking the glass away from her lips. “That’s good. Really smooth.”

“Yeah, it’s good stuff. I don’t really ever have anyone to drink it with. Me and the boys always have to be on our best behaviour.”

“Oh shit?” Stella remarked, taking another sip out of her glass. “Well, I’m honoured to be your bad influence for tonight.” She laughed, doing a little curtsy. Mark smirked at her, taking another sip of his own.

“I’m honoured to have you.” And he was. He was excited to go out with her, maybe meet up with some of the boys… it would be a good way to unwind and celebrate their latest win. Mark knew better than to get too carried away, however; he still had to keep his mind on the game, after all _. Get your head in the game,_ as Troy Bolton would say. Jesus, Scheif, try not to talk about fucking High School Musical in front of the girl. Admittedly, it was him and Trouba’s guilty pleasure in the locker room; they’d play it all the time, much to the other guys’ dismay.

Taking one last sip of her red, Stella set the glass down and picked her dress and heels up off of the barstool, raising them for Mark to see.

“Can I change somewhere?” she asked, waving her hand around. Mark nodded, taking one last sip of his red that was now nearly gone, setting it on the counter and walking for her to follow.

“You don’t wanna wear my jersey out?” Mark chuckled as he walked her towards the bathroom, stopping at the door.

“No, no. I wouldn’t want Tanev to get mad.” Stella teased, poking the boy in the side. Mark chuckled.

“You can get changed in here. I’ve gotta get out of these clothes too…” Mark trailed off before going into his bedroom which was right across from the bathroom. Stella nodded before ducking off into the bathroom and closing the door behind her.

Stella began peeling off her clothes, starting with the jersey, and then working her way down to her bra, which she also removed—it wouldn’t be ideal for the dress she was wearing; a simple deep red bodycon dress that hung low in the front and had a strappy back. After slipping the dress on, Stella put on her black strappy heels to match and looked in the mirror to make sure everything was in order. The curls in her hair held pretty well for jumping around and screaming at a hockey game for two hours, and her makeup was virtually flawless thanks to Urban Decay setting spray. Stella knelt down and fished in the pocket of her discarded jeans, pulling out a gloss to apply a fresh coat to her lips. After applying some, she made a smacking noise with her lips. As good as it’s going to get, she supposed.

Smoothing out her short dress one more time, she picked her clothes up off the floor and opened the door of the bathroom, exiting. Immediately, she was faced with the image of Mark from his room, pants half done as he buttoned up a black dress shirt—clearly, he hadn’t thought to close the door, or maybe it didn’t matter to him. Stella walked past the boy’s room and into the living room, but not before she noticed his abs and smirk towards her. _Cocky bastard._ Stella thought to herself, biting her lip to keep herself from smiling as she made her way outside.

Stella put her clothes into her bag and took a seat on one of the bar stools, fetching her phone out of the medium sized black slouchy purse. On it, she saw a few texts from Liv.

 

10:15 >> _how’s it going? did u find him ok_

10:15 >> _i wonder where’s he gonna take u it’s like late nothing is open_

10:17 >> _well clubs r open but yea… maybe he’ll get creative_

10:36 >> _Stella omg hello_

10:42 >> _STELLA_

10:45 >> _i’m gonna assume ur ok and hopefully getting fucked and not in EXTREME FUCKING DANGER i don’t give a shit if he’s our best guy on the team i’ll deck that bitch in the face_

10:52 >> _just let me know ur ok when u can. love u BE SAFE_

Stella smiled, oh, Olivia. The girl tapped out a quick reply.

 

**11:10 >> _stop i’m fine lmao we are just at his place getting ready to go out to a club. i’m alive and well… haven’t gotten piped yet tho so that kinda blows but the night is still young!_**

**11:11 >> _love u sm tho and thank u for worrying about me. i’m all good. tell u how it goes tomorrow._**

After a few more moments of waiting Mark walked out from his room, emitting a low whistle as he approached the girl sitting at his kitchen counter. He could only see the back of her, those familiar curls, that same back tattoo slightly obscured by the straps on the back of her dress, but she looked amazing. Stella spun around in the barstool at the sound of him, getting out of her seat to show off her full outfit, shrugging and smiling. Mark could only chuckle, she knew she was cute. He liked that about her.

“You look really good.” Mark said. Stella got out of her chair and stood as he approached her. Her heels gave her a good three inches extra on top of her regular height, but she was still quite small compared to him.

“Thank you, thank you.” Stella smiled, motioning to him. “You clean up nice, too, Scheif.” The girl commended. “Did quite like you without the shirt, too, though.” She teased. Stella could attribute her forwardness to the wine the two of them had shared, but the truth was that’s just how she always was whether it be in dating or in work—she liked to take risks. Life was too short for playing games, she knew that. If you wanted something, you just had to go for it. And now looking at Mark in his black collared button up short sleeve and dark wash jeans with the knowledge of how he looked without those things, it was distracting. Mark smiled taking another step towards her, they had been close, but now they were even closer, bodies nearly flush to one another.

Mark hooked his arm around her waist, slowly, tentatively. Maybe she was just teasing him; making fun of the fact she had managed to catch him shirtless so early on. If that was the case, Mark was ready to back off whenever she signalled he should, but for now, his arm was around her waist and she was looking up into his eyes with no sign of pulling away.

“Did you?” Mark asked smiling down at her. Stella simply hummed her reply as she nodded, smiling up at him. He brought her closer to him so that their bodies were now flush against one another. “Red is your colour, you know.” Mark stated, taking his free hand and tugging playfully at the left strap of Stella’s dress. She had been wearing red the first time they met, and she looked just as good now as she did that night. Stella took her hand and placed it on Mark’s at the strap of her dress, leading the boy to pull it down off of her shoulder. Okay. They were doing this. Mark licked his lips in anticipation.

“Every colour is my colour.” Stella smirked playfully, watching the way the older boy’s tongue moved across his lips. That was a signal if Mark ever saw one. With the tension between them at what felt like its peak, Mark hoisted the girl up by her legs so that they wrapped around his back and all at once they were kissing—hot, fast, passionate. Mark could hardly believe it, tonight was definitely going his way. Stella’s hands were in his hair, tugging softly every now and again at the ends as the two of them made out on their trek to Mark’s room without breaking apart. For a moment, he pulled away, breathing heavy.

“You didn’t want to go to that club, did you?” Mark asked, double checking he wasn’t robbing the girl out of a night out if she wanted one.

“No,” Stella responded simply, shaking her head at him.

“Okay, good, me either.” Mark replied, and just like that, they were kissing again. Their tongues met and playfully flicked at the other’s as Mark kicked open his bedroom door so the two of them could get through. Pulling away again quickly, Mark spoke. “This is my room.” Mark didn’t want the girl to think he had took her here simply to fuck her, so he made sure to give her the mandatory house tour, however brief. Stella looked around quickly.

“Oh yeah, it’s nice.” Stella said hurriedly, nodding. Mark nodded at her satisfactory response and dropped her onto the bed, their mouths only apart for a split second before their lips met again; a smattering mess of hot, wet kisses were exchanged as Stella reached for the buttons on Mark’s shirt, desperate to get them undone. “All that time you took putting this on only to have it gone to shit,” Stella teased in between kisses, undoing the buttons one by one, “Shame.”

“I didn’t take that long.” Mark replied, pressing kisses to her neck as she worked at the shirt, now pushing it off of his shoulders and letting it drop to the floor.

“You took kind of long.” Stella retorted, now undoing the boy’s pants as their lips yet again found their way to each other. After Stella had successfully unzipped his jeans, Mark kicked them off and onto the floor, messily stepping on his socks to remove them and kick them out of the way, too. Mark stood up and looked at the girl on the bed beneath him hungrily, giving Stella time to admire Mark in only his boxer briefs, his hardened bulge on full display, this time she couldn’t help but show her genuine reaction as she bit her lip, her eyes flickering back up to his. Mark smirked at this.

“My turn,” he said in a low voice, kissing the girl once before lifting her dress up from its skirt and over her head. “ _Fuck_.” Mark groaned. The image of her in only her black lacey underwear, tits out, hair sprawled around her head, with those heels on was enough to make him lose it. Mark got onto his knees at the edge of the bed, taking Stella by the thighs and pulling her to him.

Slowly, the boy trailed his fingers over the fabric of her underwear, he could already feel how wet she was and that only turned him on more. Even the lightest of touches were enough to elicit a reaction from the girl, so when Mark placed a little more pressure over her entrance even with her underwear still on, she pressed her hips up in order to achieve more contact. Mark laughed before he yanked off her underwear and tossed them aside. “Holy fuck,” the boy murmured, pushing the girl’s thighs apart as he positioned himself between her legs. Her pussy was completely bare, giving him a full view of her. Mark saw just how much she was dripping and took his tongue across the wet trail from the bottom up of her entrance before delving in completely, as deep as his tongue would allow him.

“Fuck.” Stella groaned, arching her back at the sudden contact, taking a fistful of the boy’s hair into her right hand. Mark continued to fill her with his tongue, darting in and out of her entrance at different speeds and different depths to keep her guessing. “Please…” Stella murmured, her legs locked behind his neck. At this, Mark retracted his tongue and looked up at her, his fingers now taking over. The boy placed his thumb at the girl’s clit as he rubbed mercilessly, not giving her any time to adjust.

“Please what?” he asked playfully, his blue eyes completely dark with lust. Stella looked down at him and frowned.

“Please fuck me.” she whimpered, grabbing hold of his wrist and bringing him up so they were once again at eye level with one another. Stella took Mark’s face in between her hands and brought him down to her so they could share another heated kiss. The girl took his bottom lip in between her two teeth and tugged playfully. She was frustrated, and now she wanted to be in control. He wouldn’t be putting his dick in her just yet. Stella readjusted so that now Mark was beneath her and she was above him, pulling off his boxers. Upon doing so, Mark’s length was on full display. He was long and he was thick and fucking solid. It was Stella’s turn to cuss under her breath.

The girl placed herself between Mark’s knees and made a ring with her index finger and thumb around his base to hold him in place as she slipped her mouth around his cock, bringing her tight lips lower and lower each time she bobbed her head. Mark took a fistful of Stella’s hair in one of his hands, muttering curse words as the girl brought her lips all the way to the base of his shaft. From there, she moved so that Mark’s dick was fucking the back of her throat, her movements quick and mind numbingly arousing. Mark’s cock throbbed from within the girl’s throat before she came back up, pulling her lips off his dick with a satisfying _pop_ , her spit a string from her mouth to his dick.

“Holy shit.” Mark cursed, looking up at her and caressing her cheek with his thumb. Stella sat up and smiled, satisfied with herself.

“Where are your condoms?” she asked simply, looking Mark dead in the eye. This girl was something else.

“Bedside drawer.” Mark breathed, before even finishing his sentence, Stella was on all fours on Mark’s king bed and searching the contents of the bedside drawer. Mark couldn’t help but give the girl’s ass a satisfying _smack_ as she searched, to which she yelped and wiggled her ass in response. Finally, she had retrieved a condom and ripped the packet open. Stella rolled the condom onto Mark’s cock, and that sensation alone made his head spin. Stella bit her lip, grinning at Mark’s response beneath her.

The girl held onto the boy’s cock as she lowered herself onto him, letting out a shaky breath. He was big, but he felt _good._ Mark’s cock was long enough so that he was hitting her spot every time she bounced up and down on him, and Stella was relentless. She bounced up and down on his cock nice and fast, swivelling her hips now and then so he was hitting her from every angle.

Mark revelled in the feeling of Stella tight around his cock, placing his hands on her small waist as he bounced her up and down onto him. Their pace got faster and faster until Mark could feel himself coming close. Mark chewed on his lip looking up at Stella above him, her head was thrown back and her tits bounced every time he lifted her up and down his cock.

“Stella, _fuck_.” He groaned, his grip on her waist tightening, “I’m gonna cum,” he breathed. After a few final pumps he felt himself spill over into the condom, his grip on her loosening ever so slightly as she rode out the final stages of his orgasm. Mark smirked at the girl on top of him and flipped them over so she was underneath, and once again he picked up the pace before she could even react. Stella gasped at the sudden pressure, her hands finding their way to Mark’s strong back as she let her nails leave marks in his shoulder blades.

“Mark,” she whimpered, feeling herself come undone with each stroke. With one final hit to her g spot with the tip of his dick, Stella arched her back as she lost herself completely to euphoria, coming all around Mark inside her. Mark grinned at the feelings of her walls tightening and watching her fall apart around him as he gave her a few final slow pumps before placing a kiss at her temple and then on her lips, falling over so he was on his back beside her on the bed. The both of them were breathing heavily, before they shared a glance and began laughing.

“We couldn’t do that at the club.” Stella remarked, giggling slightly. Mark let out a guffaw, nodding in agreement.

“No, no we could not.”

 

* * *

 

 

Bright light washing over her eyelids was all Stella needed to wake up. Squeezing her eyes shut at the sudden sunlight, the girl opened up one eye slowly. Yep, as anticipated, to one side of her, there she was, the sun. Big bitch. Stella stifled a groan, pulling the sheets up over her head, turning over away from the huge window, rolling onto her side and being met with Mark laying on his stomach his head buried between his crossed arms before she could complete concealing herself with the covers. Stella made a little ‘o’ with her mouth. Right. _That’s_ what she had done last night… or rather, that’s _who_ she had done last night.

Stella admired the boy’s messy hair (credit to her) and strong shoulders (credit to genes and hard work, probably), rising and falling with each breath he took during his slumber. Stella rolled off her side and onto her back, staring at the ceiling above her. Fuck. What time was it? Where was her phone? Propping herself up on her elbows, Stella surveyed the room. There was her dress… and her underwear… and Mark’s clothes… _his_ underwear. Damn it. She had left her phone outside in her purse. Stella chewed on the inside of her lip as she weighed her options, she could get up and get her phone, possibly waking Mark up in the process, _or_ she could wait here for an indeterminate amount of time until he chose to wake up. Stella emitted a quiet sigh, neither option nor outcome was the end of the world, but she really didn’t want to disturb him, but she _also_ didn’t want to be stuck in his bed naked all day. Hm, maybe if she rolled out of the bed super quietly—

“Hey.” _Jesus Christ_. His voice, however grumbly and soft as a side effect of the morning, still managed to startle her. Stella’s eyes widened before she turned to him, he was just peeking over his folded arms and over at her. Instantly, Stella’s shock dissolved and she smiled at him, hugging the sheets closer to her. Mark stretched his body out, his size still completely shocking to her—he was a big guy. After a satisfying stretch with a groan to match, Mark yawned.

“Hello.” Stella replied, smiling.

“You looked like you were thinking about something. Like. Really fucking hard.” Mark laughed lightly, his voice still thick with slumber. It was cute. Hot even. Stella mentally kicked herself. _Relax, you guys fucked last night, stop being so fucking horny_. Stella scrunched her face up at his words.

“I was just wondering where my phone was…” she replied. In an instant, Mark’s arm was around her waist and he was pulling her towards him so once again, their bodies were flush against each other, just like they were last night when this whole thing had started.

“No phones, just sleep.” Mark grumbled. It was clear he was only half awake. Stella laughed as he buried his face into her shoulder, a little surprised by the intimacy of his arms around her. Because of their proximity, her breasts to his sculpted chest, his hand around her waist, it was very apparent just how naked they were.

“We’re still naked.” Stella noted.

“Yeah.” Mark replied, his eyes still shut as he spoke into her hair.

“And you’re hard.”

“It’s morning.”

“So, you don’t want to fuck me?” Stella asked incredulously. Mark pulled back from her so they were face to face.

“Well, I mean, are you offering…” Mark started, causing Stella to laugh in response.

“I’m kidding. But I should go…” Stella replied, looking down at their embrace. It was a slight signal for him to let her go without blatantly saying it. All of a sudden, it felt like Mark was hit with a sudden burst of consciousness. Oh. Oh shit. He was holding onto her. He was… cuddling her. Mark made a face of exasperation and instantly relinquished her from his grasp.

“Oh, fuck eh?” Mark laughed awkwardly, watching Stella press her lips into a tight smile in response. “Sorry I’m just… tired.” The boy explained meekly. Stella smiled politely, shaking her head as she got up, leaving the sheet on the bed. Mark couldn’t help but watch her move, her bare skin reminding him of last night, her saying his name… his eyes drifted to the tattoo down her spine again, he’d have to ask her about it sometime. Preferably when he wasn’t holding her like this was some fucking Nicholas Spark novel. They were good films, though.

“No worries.” She bent over to pick up her dress, shoes, and underwear off of the floor, and Mark couldn’t help but stare again. She whipped around and held the dress up in one hand for the both of them to look at. “People will definitely know I just got fucked if I leave here in this.” Stella joked, laughing slightly. Mark had barely heard her, his eyes now scanning the girl’s body up and down. Her breasts, her toned stomach, her thighs. Stella cleared her throat. “Enjoying yourself?” she asked playfully. She didn’t seem bothered in the slightest, more amused than anything. Mark noticed she loved to tease him.

“Shit,” Mark averted his gaze to the ceiling, “Sorry, you’re just so… naked.” Mark remarked, squinting his eyes up at the white blank space above him, suddenly very interested in the architectural choice of not putting popcorn ceilings up in his place.

“Yeah, well, so are you.” Stella noted.

“Hm?” Mark looked to her and then down at himself. Fuck. Well, yes, he was very naked, and very _erect_. Mark instantly covered himself with the sheet Stella left behind, smiling sheepishly. “Sorry.” Stella shrugged, smiling.

“No big deal.” She said over her shoulder as she walked out of his room. Mark rolled his eyes and looked back up at the ceiling. _Smooth one, Scheif. Real fuckin’ suave._

Quickly, Mark slipped on his boxers and followed Stella outside, who was already half clothed with a shirt on—one he didn’t recognize, probably another thing she had hidden in her Mary Poppins bag of wonder—as she slipped on her jeans and zipped them up.

“Last night was fun.” Stella remarked, smiling cheekily up at Mark, who leaned against the counter top behind him as he watched Stella shove her clothes in her bag. He couldn’t help but smile in response, feeling a bit of the tension and nerves melt off his shoulders.

“Yeah, it was really fun.” Mark said, running his hands through his hair, letting out a laugh. Stella combed through her own brown locks with her fingers and then she was on her phone calling herself a cab. Mark could hardly believe how lucky he got. A hot, good lay, who was calling her own way home. She did say she wasn’t in the market for serious, but this was beyond his expectations. “I can’t believe you guys don’t have Uber yet.” Stella laughed when she hung up the phone.

“I know, but thankfully the cab will be here in like ten minutes.” Stella sighed, smoothing out her shirt. “I should probably head downstairs to wait.”

“Oh, yeah. For sure.” Mark stammered, picking up the girl’s heels for her to take. She nodded at him graciously as she stuffed them into her bag she just slung over her shoulder. Stella walked towards the door, slipping her white Vans on. When she popped back up she jabbed Mark in the chest with her index finger.

“You guys better win it in Vegas.” She warned, smiling. Mark laughed and nodded.

“Of course.” Mark smiled. Stella leaned in for a hug, and the taller boy enveloped her in response.

“Good luck.” She smiled, pulling away and leaving Mark’s apartment.

Fuck. He hoped he’d see her again.


End file.
